


In A Boy's Dream

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-29
Updated: 2004-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Response to a September 2004 Ficathon challenge: "I'd like to see a tipsy Obi have a first time with Garen while Qui plays the voyeur."</p>
    </blockquote>





	In A Boy's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a September 2004 Ficathon challenge: "I'd like to see a tipsy Obi have a first time with Garen while Qui plays the voyeur."

Wobble.

Wibble. Wobble.

Qui-Gon frowned and slowed his stride. He steadied himself against the wall, fingertips scrabbling at the smooth surface when another wave of sickening disorientation struck him.

Returning early from a solo three day mission while Obi-Wan was taking class finals, he wondered if he'd contracted some illness from the insectoid beings he'd dealt with. He scanned his memory searching for a clue.

Just outside the closed doorway to his quarters the odor of Irwellian ale assaulted his nose. Frowning, he pushed the door open.

Signs of slight disturbances were scattered about the common room he shared with his padawan - an overtunic draped over the back of his chair - not Obi-Wan's tunic, he noted - a cupboard door hanging open in the kitchenette, and the scuffed sole of a brown boot peeking out from Obi-Wan's doorway.

From the low voices coming from somewhere beyond the door, along with a now much stronger scent of ale, it was likely the poor boot got caught there by an inebriated toss.

Satisfied that the earlier disorientation was a shield breakdown from his padawan, Qui-Gon dropped his pack on the table and strengthened his own shields as he approached Obi-Wan's room.

The room was dark, the bed untouched. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at the sight of the doorway between their sleeping quarters standing partially open. He stepped behind the door, uncharacteristically wishing not to disturb whatever was going on in there. By rights, he could have marched in and issued Jedi Master demands on why his personal space had been invaded, but curiosity compelled him to lay low and listen instead.

"How much is left?" he heard Obi-Wan ask.

"Enough for one more swallow each -- if you want it." The drunken voice was that of Garen, Obi-Wan's best friend. "Here."

"Thanks." A clink of glass on glass. "Gods, this room is a mess. We'll have to clean it up before my master gets back."

"When's he due?"

A shifting of bodies, a thumping on the floor. "Tomorrow sometime. Oh, Gods, Garen. What am I going to do?"

"You're too young; you know that."

"But the feelings! Damn. The things I dream of - they're so real. I wake up with an impossible hard-on every time."

Qui-Gon settled himself on the end of Obi-Wan's bed where he found he could see the boys seated on the floor of his room. He double-checked his shielding to ensure his invisibility. Was Obi-Wan dreaming of someone in particular? He began to enumerate the various available knights and masters that his young padawan could have encountered recently. Perhaps even an older learner?

"Find someone your own age, Obi-Wan. He's too old! Do you even have a freaking clue how many padawans have an eye on you?"

"But I don't want anyone else. I want him."

Garen sighed and in the half light Qui-Gon saw him lean towards Obi-Wan. "Tell me, then."

Qui-Gon shrank back into the shadows when Obi-Wan rose and headed for the large window overlooking the temple gardens. He and Obi-Wan had spent meditation and discussion time out on that small balcony. Memories of heart-to-hearts flooded him, but none of them had ever concerned the boy's sexuality. Qui-Gon was mildly surprised to hear his handsome, popular padawan express interest in another male, having seen the longing looks Obi-Wan had received from several female students in the temple.

"It's late at night, and we're outside on some warm planet. The stars are really bright, and we're by a lake. The smell of water is so sweet, and it laps up on the shore in tiny, hungry waves. I take off my outer tunic to go swimming and to my surprise, Qui-Gon does, too."

His name. Shocked to find himself far more interested in this conversation than he should be, Qui-Gon edged beyond the door to step just inside his room, in time to see Garen rise and stand behind Obi-Wan, silhouetted by the endless Coruscant light.

"Obi-Wan…" Garen whispered. His hands shakily rested on Obi-Wan's waist. "You can't have him. But you can have anyone else you want - even me."

Obi-Wan turned into Garen's arms, his eyes glittering. "That's the ale talking, Garen. I shouldn't have let you drink so much."

Garen raised one hand to play gently with Obi-Wan's hair. "You had just as much. Obi-Wan…please."

Even in the half-light, Qui-Gon could see the pleading in Garen's eyes, the want for the warm body in his arms. A spike of unexpected jealousy jolted through him.

"Show me your dream, Obi-Wan," said Garen, leaning in to brush the barest of kisses across Obi-Wan's lips. "You know you can't have him - but I'll try to replace him for you if it will help. Let me, Obi-Wan."

For a moment Obi-Wan wavered. He closed his eyes while Garen continued his slow petting, a silent plea for Obi-Wan to return his caresses. After a long moment, he sighed and leaned his forehead on Garen's shoulder, speaking in a low, strained whisper.

"He comes up behind me in the water while I float. He's laughing and splashing at me, and I duck under the water to escape. He grabs me and picks me up and hauls me to shore."

Garen slid his arms around Obi-Wan and then leaned down to hoist him into his arms. Qui-Gon's heart twisted as his affection for the boy Garen carried suddenly swelled. Obi-Wan clung to Garen's neck as his friend shuffled his way to Qui-Gon's large bed and lay Obi-Wan upon it.

"He lays me on his cloak, spread out on the grass, and he leans over me, his arms on either side as his hair drips water onto my face."

Qui-Gon stood very still, barely breathing, his own mind whirling as he recalled a year-old mission where this very act happened. He'd only been playing with the boy, inserting some freedom and playtime into an otherwise serious training relationship. He'd tickled the boy then, reveling in his laughter as it echoed off the water. And now, Obi-Wan had remembered and had turned it into a sexual fantasy.

"One hand strokes down my chest and then he's loosening the ties…"

Garen obediently played Qui-Gon's part, removing clothing and dropping kisses in response to Obi-Wan's whispered litany. Qui-Gon felt his own sex stir at the sight of the young body on his bed, at the quiet voice speaking his name in a tone that begged for returned affection.

Too young, too young, his mind screamed at him. Obi-Wan was too young. Barely seventeen - but the last four years…oh. How Obi-Wan had turned his master's life around, how he had captured and changed a lonely, discouraged heart.

Conscience nagged him for watching the intimate acts being performed before him, unbeknownst to the players, but his fascination in Obi-Wan's revelation kept Qui-Gon rooted, his own arousal swelling.

"Obi-Wan -- have you ever done anything like this before?" Garen asked, nuzzling Obi-Wan's neck.

"No. Have you?" Fingers twisted in Garen's hair.

"No." Garen chuckled. "I've seen enough holovids, though…and we're just drunk enough."

Obi-Wan nodded, arching his neck as Garen bent his head to lick a nipple.

It has been far too long since my last lover, Qui-Gon thought. He indulged in the memory of a tall, lean knight wantonly waiting. Laying the memory of their lovemaking over the clumsier attempts by the boys in his room, he tried to replace the long-gone lover with young Obi-Wan, male body still developing, nipples perfect and pink, rising beneath his questing tongue…

He bit back a moan and tried to quell a sharp pang of lust. His cock leapt as Obi-Wan rolled and took his lover's sex within his mouth.

But Garen was right. Qui-Gon was too old for Obi-Wan, and he berated himself for even considering it.

He was Obi-Wan's master. Not his lover.

Not unheard of though, he thought, memories of other master/padawan couples betraying his halfhearted conviction.

The boys' combined lust produced a scent, musky and dark. Obi-Wan's head settled into a rhythm, sucking and licking at Garen's cock, while one of his hands stroked his own.

Sprawled as they were across the bed, they painted a beautiful picture, city lights spilling across their naked forms, casting a rosy hue on sweaty skin as bodies shifted and moved together. Panting and whispers too soft to discern floated to Qui-Gon as if from across a long distance, and he felt somehow removed, drunk, seeming outside himself, so caught up he was in the erotic display before him, knowing one of those writhing bodies was meant to be his.

Long fingers unconsciously began to rub at his cock through his leggings, naturally matching the speed of Obi-Wan's strokes. Garen pulled Obi-Wan's head up and took a long, deep kiss, their bodies pressing together, pushing and rubbing, arms and legs tangling as their sensual movements became frantic. Qui-Gon bit his lip to silence himself as he felt his cock pulse against, and then wet, his fingers, which were somehow now inside his leggings, pulling mercilessly. Obi-Wan shuddered and stiffened, his cry of completion drawn out as Garen continued his rubbing until he came, gasping and clutching at Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon sagged against the doorframe, shocked at himself.

"Qui-Gon…" he heard whispered from across the room, and he jumped slightly, as if he'd been seen. "I want him, Garen. So much."

Obi-Wan buried his face against Garen's shoulder and lay still as gentle fingers trailed across his back. "I know." Garen's wistfulness was evident. Ale talking or no, Garen was in love with Obi-Wan…his Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon withdrew back through the doorway, wiping his sticky hand on his tunic. While Garen's feelings would have to be taken into account, still he realized that he, too, wanted Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon allowed himself to entertain that interesting thought briefly before he took up his pack and left his quarters for the meditation gardens. Tomorrow. He'd return tomorrow, and then - they'd talk. About Garen. About his own yearnings.

About love.

_~end_


End file.
